Answered Prayers
by K Hanna Korossy
Summary: Swan Song tag: Just because you can't see God working doesn't mean He isn't.


**Answered Prayers**  
K Hanna Korossy

"This is becoming repetitive, Dean."

He hadn't heard the angel arrive, but no surprise there. He wasn't a hunter anymore, senses dull and out of practice. Not to mention he was kinda preoccupied. Dean turned the Colt over in his hand, head still bowed over it. "Nobody asked you to come, Cas."

Castiel moved closer to the park bench, the slight swish of his trench coat Dean's only clue to his action. "Your pain is quite…loud," he said, sounding almost chagrined.

Dean's mouth curled at that. The angel's return to Heaven since…Lucifer returned to the Pit had only weakened the hold human emotion had on him. There was still some of the Cas Dean knew inside him.

A pause, then Castiel lowered himself lightly onto the bench next to Dean. Dawn was just starting to get a foothold, and the park was murky and still. His voice rang out in the silence, befitting an angel of the Lord, when Cas finally spoke again. "You know, what you are thinking is untrue."

"Which part?" Dean snarked. "That I'll blow the back of my head off if I get the angle right, or that Lisa and Ben won't be the ones to find me out here?"

"That God does not hear your prayers."

Dean sat back, mouth stretching in what he knew was a mockery of a smile. "Oh, that's rich, coming from you. Six months ago, you weren't even sure God existed. Now you're mouthpiecing for Him again?"

"I was wrong to doubt. Returning to Heaven, I have received much revelation. Joshua was…inexact in his words to you. My Father has done more for you and Sam than you will ever know."

Dean squeezed his eyes shut. Sam. The name was like the slice of a sharp blade across Dean's heart. Lisa and Ben knew not to mention him, and no one else in Dean's world now even knew he'd _had_ a brother. "Yeah, that's right," he said raggedly. "Like letting demons kill off half our family. Or poison Sam when he was just a baby and manipulate him into going up against Satan by himself. Oh, and let's not forget the grand prize for his somehow succeeding against all odds: an all-expense-paid one-way trip to the lowest level of Hell. Yeah, God's been real good to us. Hate to see where we'd be if the Big Guy _weren't_ on our side."

There was a long space of quiet. Some sort of morning bird trilled in the trees above. Sam probably would have known what kind it was, and Dean turned his head away angrily at the burning in his eyes.

The Colt's metal was cold in his hands. They'd blown all their chances to share an afterlife, him and Sam; even if he went to Hell now, Dean would never be able to join his brother in his cage. But in Heaven, maybe he could at least pretend the vision of Sam with him was the real thing. That his brother wasn't really doomed to an eternity of the worst kind of—

"November second, nineteen eighty-three."

Dean frowned, blinking a few times. He had to clear his throat before he said, "What?"

"The day your—"

"I know what day it was, Cas. What about it?"

"Your father would have died in that fire as well. You and Sam would have been separated in foster care and grown up alone, but you prayed, holding Sam in the yard, for your father to return."

The furrow between Dean's brows deepened. He looked up at Cas. "Are you telling me—?"

"February fourteenth, two thousand-six. You prayed for Sam's safe return after he was taken by the evil clan that intended to hunt and kill him. You were injured, but he escaped unscathed."

Dean's mouth had gone dry. "Cas…"

"September first, two thousand-six. You prayed for your father to overcome Azazel's grip and save you. Three years later, you offered a similar prayer for Bobby Singer. Both found the strength to regain control of themselves and not kill you."

Dean buried his head in his hands, his fingers in his hair. "I can't… Why are you…"

"March ninth, two thousand seven. Sam was infected with the Croatoan virus and appeared doomed to death. You—"

"Stop!" Dean shot up frantically in his seat. "Stop, okay? I get it. I didn't…I didn't know." He licked his lips, tried to sort the mess of his thoughts into something that made sense. "All right, fine, so we weren't on our own as much as we thought. But why bother? Why keep pulling our bacon out of the fire just so we could end up here?" He pushed his shoulder back, growing grimmer as the pieces came together. "Seems to me, God was just saving our asses so we could do our bit in the Big Finale. I mean, didn't want his puppets to burn before they played their parts, right? That's not answering prayers, Cas—that's just being selfish. If He was any kind of a caring God, he should've let Sam die before…" His jaw trembled, and Dean clamped it shut.

"You would not have thought so then."

He took a few seconds to make sure he had his voice under control, but it still came out rough and low. "Yeah, well. I see things a little differently now. What can I say, experience is a bitch."

Cas pulled in a breath. He didn't need to respire, but it was an indulgence of his human body. Dean wondered absently where Jimmy Novak was stashed whenever Cas went upstairs. "And now?"

Dean paused in the midst of rubbing his mouth to give the angel a confused look. "What about now?"

"If God really were a selfish God, would He have not ceased to listen? Now that you have…'played your parts'?"

Dean chuckled bleakly. "Don't you tell me He's still listening. You know, I don't know what's worse, a God who doesn't care, or One who does and still lets something like this happen."

Castiel stood. Right, what could he say to that?

But he didn't say anything. He just started to glow.

Dean shied away from the light but didn't slam his eyes shut as he was tempted to. If Cas was going to do the full Glory-of-the-Lord thing, Dean really didn't care if it killed him or not. He hadn't been sitting on that park bench with a gun in his hand for his health.

It wasn't the full-on angel show, though. Like in that empty shed years ago when he'd first appeared to Dean, Castiel only let a taste of his real nature out, a shadow of mighty wings unfurled, a warrior of God imbued with His power, a terrible and marvelous being the likes of which Dean had never before or since seen, running him through with instinctive terror. This was an Angel of God, and despite everything, Dean found himself cowering from it.

The voice rang through his head like a thunderclap. _"Who is man, that God is mindful of him? Shall the Potter be considered equal with the clay? For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are His thoughts than your thoughts."_

"God does care, Dean." Castiel was suddenly back to normal, a nondescript guy in a trenchcoat with a gravelly voice. "He is listening."

The anger was gone, leaving only a despair behind that was too great to hide. "Then why isn't He answering?" Dean pleaded, wet face tilted up. "Why is Sam still down there?"

Castiel cocked his head, and for a second, Dean was struck by the compassion in his eyes. But all Cas finally said was, "You have received more of an answer than you know." And before Dean could question any further, there was a flutter and he was alone again.

Dean looked around, then sagged back, rubbing at swollen eyes. "Well, that was helpful." Cas remained as cryptic as ever; some things didn't change.

But there was something, some difference…

Dean rubbed at his breastbone, confused. It had felt for the last few months as though he were trying to breathe underwater, his chest heavy and tight. But it suddenly felt looser, like he could get up and walk back to the car and to Lisa and Ben, even go to work. Keep going. A little bit of determination had inexplicably carved itself a spot inside his burdened heart, maybe even…hope?

_Sam?_

Dean shook his head, then shoved the Colt into his pocket and struggled to his feet. Okay. Fine. He'd keep going a little longer. Still not sure how that had happened, or for how long, or why. But he'd try. He could always come back if he couldn't bear it any longer, right?

Resolute and alone, Dean trod back to his Impala, just starting to shine in the morning sun.

He never did return to that park. Not even later, with Sam.

**The End**


End file.
